Sass in Class
by Calex
Summary: Sequel to Valentine Best Man. Marcus Flint might have lost the woman he had loved, but a man with that much potential couldn't be wasted, not if Anthea Zabini can help it. MarcusOC


Title: S-ass in Class

Author: Calex

Rating: R for sexual situations and language

Disclaimer: Not mine, Rowling's. I only own Thea. No copyright infringement intended, no profit sought to be made.

Notes: Sequel to Valentine Best Man. It's Marcus's turn to have some fun. grin

_Chapter 1: S-ass in Class_

Marcus was brooding. Badly brooding. There was just no other word for it. He stared into the fire, slumped into the leather armchair with a crystal decanter of brandy n one hand and brooded. Bloody hell and dammit. Last week, the first woman he had ever loved got married to his once biggest enemy; a week ago, the man he considered a brother got married. Today was the wedding day of the woman he had just managed to get over three months ago after two years of separation. Ginny… and to Zabini, no less! The world obviously hated him; he really didn't understand what was going on with people getting married. Hell, his mother had been nagging at him to find a wife since he became semi-famous through Quidditch and had women throwing themselves at him, sometimes literally with the throwing. Wasn't it enough that he had a good job that he enjoyed, which brought in money by the bucketfuls in the process? He scowled; some people were never satisfied.

Then, of course, was the matter of Thea. Anthea Zabini, his date for today. He didn't really know what possessed him to ask her to be his date for her brother's wedding. She was a bride's maid and he…. He a… groom's servant? Whatever it was. He was never one for weddings, so forgive him if he didn't follow the proper etiquette. Oh, don't get him wrong, there was nothing wrong with Thea Zabini, she was beautiful, intelligent and sarcastic with a very sly sense of humour; she had wickedness by the bucketfuls. She looked an awful lot like Zabini (her brother) except a more feminine version, of course. She was also tiny, just about 5"3 or "4. She'd fit nicely in his arms, though. Very nicely. Too nicely. Her head had seemed to fit at the crook of his neck and her arms went naturally to rest around his neck and his around her tiny waist. He didn't trust things that seemed too good to be true, and Thea was one of those things. Besides… she was a squib. His mother would have a heart attack, no matter that the Zabinis were an influential family. He sighed, staring at the amber liquid in his hand. He almost jumped out of his skin when the head appeared in the fireplace. The figure looked bemused as Marcus swore savagely and mopped up the spilled liquid.

"And hello to you, too," she said, dryly. "I love the welcome."

"You scared the hell out of me," he snapped, reaching for his wand and muttering a quick cleaning spell. She smiled slowly and shook her head.

"Imagine that," she drawled. "The big, bad Marcus Flint scared out of his wits by a little girl."

"I'd hardly call you a girl," he muttered, then froze. He wanted to kick himself for saying that. He hoped that the fact that he had his back to her meant that she didn't notice it or would leave it. No such luck. When he turned back to her, he found her looking at him. She grinned wickedly.

"Noticed, have you?"

"Kind of hard not to," he said, wryly. "What do you want, Zabini?"

"Making sure you were fit for the wedding today. Seeing that you're drinking, I think that that might have been the best idea I've had all week."

"What?" he frowned. "What does this…." Understanding dawned and he mock-glared at her. "I will **not** get drunk."

"Looking at you, it would seem you're already halfway there," she pointed out. "How much of….whatever you're drinking, have you had?"

"It's pink brandy," he said, absentmindedly. "About three or four."

"Shit," she sighed. "Clear the fireplace, I'm coming in."

"What?" Marcus looked startled. "You are not coming in."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"**No**, you're not."

"Yes, I-" she broke off, swearing. "I'm not going to get into this. Move away."

Before Marcus could protest, a body slid out of the fireplace, grunting as she did so. He blinked. Hell, he'd forgotten just how pretty she was. Even covered in ash she was pretty. Heart shaped face with those big blue eyes, delicately arched brows and slim nose. Her mouth was bow shaped and prettily pink, kissable. Soft. He felt the need to lean forward and to see if the mouth was as sweet as it looked.

"Well, I just remembered why I hated the floo," she grumbled, brushing away ash. She looked up and saw him staring and stopped the action. "What?"

He didn't realise that he'd been staring. Well, he had. But still. She wasn't supposed to call him on it.

"I was wondering if your mouth tasted as good as it looked."

Thea threw her head back and laughed. Marcus looked put out. She shook her head as she patted his cheek. "You'll have to find out some time later, honey. Right now, we're late."

"Late?" Marcus felt his forehead creasing with a confused frown. "Late for what?"

"The fittings. For the wedding." Anthea sighed impatiently. "Don't you remember? Gins and brother dearest is doing all this particularly last minute, but we've got a fitting at about five minutes at Madame Malkins."

"I am not going to a sodding fitting."

Anthea looked at him with a "that's what **you** think" look. Marcus met her look mutinously. She raised an eyebrow. He raised one back. She tipped her head to the side and seemed to be considering him gravely for a good minute before she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out and made the most hideous face he had ever had the misfortune of seeing. He reeled back in horror and couldn't stop the spurt of laughter that spilled from him. Anthea smiled triumphantly.

"You cheated," he said accusingly, still sniggering. Anthea shrugged.

"What do you expect? I'm a Zabini."

"I'd conveniently forgotten that fact."

"Oh buck up," Anthea sighed irritably. "Really. You'd expect a guy like you to be a man about this and suck it up. It's only a bloody fitting."

"I have plenty of dark robes of my own," he persisted stubbornly. Anthea merely shook her head and marched towards him. "You wouldn't dare."

"You don't know what I'd dare or not, Mr. Flint," she said, softly. "I suggest you remember that."

"Threats?"

"Advice," she murmured before she leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of the armrests of his armchair. Marcus started sweating, she was invading a hell of a lot of his personal space, moving her head until their noses almost brushed, until there was less than half an inch between their mouths and they could feel each other's breaths upon their faces. His hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white from the exerted pressure. She made no sign that she noticed the action, but a very satisfied smile curled her lips, a smile that women wore when they knew they were having an effect on a man. She made as if to close the distance between their mouths when she turned her head at the last minute and rested her cheek against his own. "Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. So jumpy and so obvious about it as well. What happened to that famed Slytherin blank face of yours?"

"It disappeared at the appearance of the drink," Marcus said, dryly, having to concede that he was mildly intoxicated. _Mildly_, mind. He wasn't full out drunk, just slightly… intoxicated. Dammit. He could feel her lips curve against his cheek and had to catch his breath when he felt her breasts brushed his chest. She was doing it deliberately, damn her and he knew she knew that it effected him. When he fully got his wits back, he would ignore her, ignore what she had started, but now… he let his eyelids drift close. Then they flew open when he felt the flat of her slightly rough tongue trail a wet path from the curve of his jaw to the top of his cheekbone. He had to admit to having jumped slightly. She let out a low laugh, deep in her throat.

"Ah, Marcus. You taste good, you know that?" she asked, pleasantly and this time, she stepped away from the chair and walked around him. He couldn't see her and fought the urge to strain to look at her behind him. He jumped again when he felt the tip of her tongue flick at the curve of his ear. "Very good," she grinned wickedly. "Very manly, Marcus. I could eat you all up."

"Don't," he said, hoarsely. "Stop your bloody teasing, woman." Marcus realised why he had been slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't afraid of what she made him feel, or that she was a squib; Marcus Flint was unnerved by Anthea Zabini. There, he'd admitted it. There was something about Thea that completely and utterly unnerved him and he had no idea in hell why that was. All he knew was that she did and he felt like running away whenever he saw her. _But he also wanted to crush her to him and ravish her within an inch of her life._ Marcus blinked. Oookay. Where had _that_ thought come from? Well, it wasn't really that surprising, really. He _had_ known beforehand that he was seriously attracted to the girl. Woman. Person. He just didn't like it, that was all. Was that a crime? Seriously. The girl/woman scared him like hell.

"I'll stop under one condition," she began to nibble on his earlobe and Marcus closed his eyes, fighting what she made him feel. He couldn't understand it, why would anyone in their right mind want to stop a beautiful woman from having her way with him? He must be insane. But whatever it was, he couldn't allow it. He had to stop it.

"Anything," he rasped. Anthea stilled her actions, then proceeded again as though the pause had meant nothing.

"It's dangerous to say _anything, _Marcus," she said, softly. "But for now, I'll be nice. You'll go to the fitting."

"Yes," he said, weakly, unable to read her or to stop her.

"And to anything else that would have anything to do with my brother's wedding."

"Yes."

"And not complain."

"…"

"Forget that one," Anthea said with a sigh. "That was too much to ask." She laughed when he looked offended and merely caught his mouth in a hard, quick kiss before pulling back.

"Come on, we're late. And Gin can be a bitch if she waits."

"Don't I know it," Marcus muttered, before being propelled forward by Anthea. He closed his eyes. Circe help him, he was going to go insane, he was sure of it. She would surely drive him insane. He thought, passingly, that he might enjoy his trip to insanity.

He was regretting his decision to let Thea Zabini to propel him towards the fitting. Really, really starting to regret his decision. He scowled as he watched her and Madame Malkin herself circle him, both lips pursed and thoughtful looks on their faces. He didn't know what they were possibly considering, after all, all he needed to get was fitted for a regulation black robe. Which, he kept reminding her, he had plenty of at him home.

"Maybe the newest design from Paris…?" Madame Malkin muttered, looking at him up and down. Thea shook her head.

"Too feminine for him. He needs something more manly. Masculine. Straight lines, simple, good fabric. Maybe two or three tones of colour as opposed to the monochromatic black. Something to emphasise his chest, his legs and his shoulders."

"We could try a muggle style tuxedo, I suppose," Madame Malkin said, thoughtfully. "They _are_ coming into fashion."

"Madame," Thea grinned. "You read my mind. Although perhaps not fully muggle. Soften it with the wizarding style. Or maybe just the old fashioned type of tuxedo, set with tails. A… red shirt? Yes, red. Perhaps not a tuxedo, but a mix of tux and suit? We could get rid of the cummerbund and the bow tie. And all of that."

Madame Malkin nodded, going around Marcus again. "I think you're right. The red shirt is a good touch. Silk, of course. Instead of tails, how about a mix of suit jacket and short outer robes? I've been working on a new design."

"Do you have an example?"

"Of course," Madame Malkin waved her wand and then Marcus was clothed in the sample. She muttered a few tailoring charms to secure the clothes to fit his form and then stood back, a smile on her face. He heard Thea gasp and looked at her. Her eyes had widened and filled with something dark and sensual. He licked his lips as he watched her own curve in a seductive smile. She was slowly perusing him, looking at him from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes, lingering over the parts of his body that she had mentioned before. She was looking at him like he was edible, and that she was very, _very_ hungry. Marcus gulped.

"You look delicious in that, Marcus," she all but purred. "I think I might have to keep you around after all."

He felt himself break into a sweat at her words, her tone, and that predatory look in her eyes. Yes, Anthea Zabini scared the hell out of him. His eyes locked on hers as she walked forward. He heard the curtains over the fitting room swish closed and cursed Madame Malkin in his mind, for no doubt the woman had gone and left him alone with… with _her._ Dear Salazar, he didn't know if he would survive that look in her eyes.

"T..Thea."

"Oh, stammer my name like that again," she murmured. "I think I kinda like it."

He gulped again and took a careful step backward. She matched his move with a step forward. He took another step backward and stumbled off of the mini platform he had been on. He managed to right himself, but looked up to see Thea standing in front of him, quickly invading his personal space.

"Do I make you nervous, Flint?"

"Of… Of course not!"

"Methinks you, sir, doth protest too much," she said, running a finger down his cheek, then moved to stroke his bottom lip. Marcus stilled, his heart hammering in his chest and his mind screaming at him to do something, _anything_, when he saw her get closer and closer. He closed his eyes, resigned himself to another one of her kisses, resigned himself to another kiss that made him feel as though he was inside out, upside down, and hungry, oh so hungry for more. He felt her warm breath on his face, felt silky hair brushing against his skin and he couldn't help but part his lips, waiting for that inevitable kiss….

"Thea?"

….that didn't come. Marcus growled when the curtains flicked open and Ginny's head poked into the cubicle. When she saw them, her eyes widened a little, and she let out a little squeak, immediately closing the curtain again.

"Sorry!"

"As much as I love her," Thea sounded strangled. "As much as I dearly love for her to be my sister, I might just kill her."

"I'll help," Marcus said. Thea looked up at him, grinning slightly, and cupped his face. Right, forget about killing Ginny, his mind completely went when he saw her rise herself on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his bottom lip. His hand went involuntarily to her waist, fingers digging and crushing the material of the robes she was wearing, pulling her body closer. Thea's mouth curved, and she pulled his head down to finally give him that kiss he'd been fantasising secretly about. Yup, he was right. He felt inside out, upside down, and couldn't seem to get enough of her. His other hand cupped the back of her head, fingers spearing through dark hair, then other travelling down to cup her butt and pull her tighter against him. Thea let out a little growl that sounded deep in her throat that made certain areas of his anatomy jump to attention, especially since she hooked a leg around his, pulling their bodies even closer. The kiss just got a little wilder, a clash of tongues, lips and teeth, and his hand had just gone to the fastenings at the back of her robes, and she had her hands under his shirt when the curtains were pulled back again.

"Flint!"

"Bugger," Thea gasped against his mouth, pulling away. She turned to face the intruder, mouth kiss-swollen and eyes sparkling with mischief and just a little something else. "Blaise, do you mind fucking off for a little bit? We're kind of busy at the moment."

"So that you can what? Literally with the fucking off of each other? I think not, little sister." He said, drolly. "Now could you _please_ make yourselves decent?" Without another word, he snapped the curtains close. Thea let out a shuddering breath, leaning her forehead against Marcus' chest and let out a little, breathless laugh.

"Oh, that was priceless," she smiled up at him, then raised on her tiptoes to kiss at his jaw.

"S..shouldn't we, uh, get decent?" He was utterly aware he sounded like an utter fuckwit, but… yes, the woman drove him wild, and her kiss was pure intoxication, but that was the very reason he feared her so. The woman scared him to bloody death, and he wasn't quite sure why. Even with her leg still wound around him like that, even while certain parts of her body rubbed against certain parts of _his_ body, his mind was still screaming at him to run out of there, with his tail between his legs. Thea shook her head, still chuckling softly and pulled back.

"I do believe you're scared of me, Mr. Flint."

"I'm not scared of you."

"Uh-huh," she didn't sound like she believed him. In fact, she was curling those fingers of her against his chest, tracing patterns against his bare skin. Great Salazar, that was distracting. She had long nails. He yelped when he felt one of those nails run over his nipple, practically shoving her away from him. Anthea shook her head, smirking slightly at him. "You know, Flint, most women would think you don't find me desirable, with the way you're acting."

"But you're not one of them?" he raised an eyebrow, shoving his shirt back into his trousers. Her mouth curved into a knowing smile, her eyes moving slowly down his body before resting pointedly on his groin.

"I _know_ you find me desirable," she purred. "And the fact you're scared just makes it a little bit more fun. It'll be fun catching you, Flint." With a laugh, she stepped out of the cubicle, leaving him staring at where she was in stupefaction. Shaking his head, Marcus continued in making himself more presentable, cursing difficult women in his head.


End file.
